Like a Drug
by elfx9
Summary: Brendan sickens even himself with the extreme measures he takes to get Stephen back. 2 parts.   It will all sound very dark, but don't lose faith...


He was a man out of his mind. He knew that. And for a while he revelled in it; the freedom it gave him, the liberation… the way that people feared him. He had no boundaries. No fears. No restraints. He was… dare he say it… invincible. The weaknesses that held him back for years were now gone; his fear of people knowing his sexuality… Stephen… his fear of dying… none of those things affected him any more. He was a free man.

Or so he thought.

After leaving prison Brendan's mind ticked tirelessly over these things… the things that messed with him and messed with his mind and the things that made him vulnerable. Number one, he had to get rid of Foxy. He hated the fucker and hated everything he stood for. He needed to get him gone. And then number two, he wanted to get rid of Stephen. The lad who once shamelessly declared his love to Brendan, and then proved months later that it was all words, all bullshit, because he didn't care – he never came when Brendan was in prison, he never did fuck all. And then he had the nerve to approach Brendan in the club that night… "it can be terrifying" he said. So he cared now did he? Just not when it was actually happening?

Well too fucking late.

He fired Stephen. And that was more liberating than anything – more than getting rid of Foxy. It was like a huge heavy weight in his chest being lifted – like he'd been carrying this burden for so long and now it was gone. He needed Stephen away from him. He was too much. Stephen bought with him vast emotions, vast feelings, vast restraints that Brendan didn't want to deal with anymore. With Stephen came the confusion, the wild lack of self-control, the angry fists, the tears in prison, the sleepless nights and desperate longing. All of those… they were signs of a weak and needy man. Brendan was neither weak nor needy.

And so now Stephen was gone.

Problem solved.

Brendan wouldn't think about him again. He would forget him – let him live his pathetic measly life and fuck any bloke he chose; it was all the same to Brendan now. Before prison he'd given Stephen his heart…something he'd never given to anyone. He'd allowed Stephen to break him down to a pleading mess and declare his deepest secret in a dark pit of desperation… "I love you, Stephen." He'd allowed Stephen to look further inside of him than anyone before. He'd allowed himself to become vulnerable, willing, compromising… he'd allowed his mind to ponder things he'd never considered before…

_Imagine. _To imagine he almost given himself up to that lad… he almost gave him everything… because for a moment he wanted to. He'd wanted to give Stephen the proper relationship he craved. That's what Stephen did to him back then: he ripped away the armour that Brendan had spent so long perfecting, and with a ruthlessness that made Brendan week and exposed.

Brendan had learnt NEVER to let such things happen again.

Because Stephen was a liar. Like everyone before him… like Brendan's mother, father, wife… Stephen said things, but they were just words. Stephen had never felt the fierce love that Brendan felt… if he had done then he'd have BEEN there in those sick, lonely, desperate months in prison. There was a time when Brendan would do anything for Stephen… die for him… _kill for him. _It was clear now that it was never a mutual gesture.

So WHY was it so hard to get Stephen out of his system?

Even now… even with all Brendan's hateful bitterness and resentment towards the lad, he'd find his eyes mindlessly trailing across the room and resting on him. He watched from across the street as Stephen busied himself in whatever task he was doing… or yapped on and on at whatever poor receiver of his conversation was being forced to listen. Even his voice got under Brendan's skin – making him irritable and nervous and jumpy… messing with his head. He'd have to make him shut up somehow.

Brendan barged into 'The Dog' where Stephen's voice was travelling from; with the loud and animated tone of a lad who was excited and passionate about something. _Wipe that stupid smile off your face, _Brendan thought bitterly as he eyed Ste's wide-eyed grin across the room. He was talking to Darren across the counter – his eyes shining with barely-suppressed enthusiasm.

"Oh fuckin' hell" Brendan grimaced, sticking his finger in his ear pointedly, "Wanna keep it down Stephen? Some of us are just comin' for a quiet drink."

But Stephen didn't rise to it… he just rolled his eyes. Oh. Brendan forgot – Stephen's a _big man _now isn't he? Now he's got his new fucking job and his new fucking wage. Apparently now he's all high-and-mighty and too superior to let Brendan's jabs bother him.

"Right, I better be off." Stephen sighed to Darren, downing the rest of his pint. "I'll catch ye later at the quiz though, yeah?"

Brendan chuckled, "Quiz? What, a new job and suddenly ye know yer ABC's, Stephen? I don't believe it."

"Well you don't have to, I wasn't talkin' to you, was I?" Ste smiled with a weird sort of politeness that made Brendan's skin crawl. He really wasn't rising, was he? He thought he was so fucking suave, didn't he?

Before Brendan could even retort, Stephen was gone. Brendan only had time to see him rushing out the door – always somewhere to go these days – in his _brand new _jeans and somehow-stylish woollen jumper… which he somehow pulled off despite his pathetically tiny figure and… and stupid hair. Brendan squeezed his pint glass tight. _What a fucking idiot, _he thought.

And yet… he still couldn't fight the feeling of disappointment. Or maybe it wasn't disappointment – it was hard to tell what it was… just something hard and heavy in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down in misery. Because it was hard to get _any_ sort of reaction from Stephen these days. Even in the club when they weren't talking, Brendan had been able to at least make him whine, or pout or strop a little… or even sometimes make him smile and make him laugh. He took a hard gulp of his pint.

Okay. So the truth was becoming clear to him… he missed having that affect on Stephen. Some hateful part of him still missed the days when Stephen would look at him like he was an absolute hero… like Stephen really did adore him… would do anything for him. His eyes would glisten in this pathetic – yet strangely endearing – openness and shine with pride whenever Brendan threw any tactical compliment his way. Stephen had been so EASY in those days.

He'd never look at Brendan like that again, he guessed. Stephen didn't have an ounce of respect for him anymore… in fact (and Brendan _hated _to admit it)… it was almost like Stephen _pitied _him sometimes. PITIED him… when he wasn't too busy detesting him.

Shit.

Brendan took a large gulp of his beer. Another one… and another. Shit, this wasn't working. He needed something stronger. He needed to feel the harsh sting on his throat as he always did when sentimentality threatened to penetrate the armour. Fuck that.

After too much whisky and scotch than was good for him… Brendan found himself at the quiz night. Fuck knows why. He wanted to feel good about himself. He wanted to parade amongst the punters and evoke fear in them the way he was so good at doing. He wanted to mock their pathetic illusions of intelligence as they filled in their little score sheets. He wanted… he wanted _reaction._

Stephen was there… sat amongst a table of blokes Brendan wasn't even aware he was friends with. Darren, Nancy, Riley, Douglas… and Amy and Michaela were there too. They were all laughing loudly… clearly quite drunk themselves… _enjoying _themselves. Stephen looked relaxed. Not as loud and animated as he had been earlier now that he was upstaged by more domineering personalities, but he was still at peace with himself. Too comfortable. Where was the excitement in that?

Brendan ignored him anyway… preferring to skulk around the edges, fix people with intimidating glares when it was called for and eye up any possible talent that he could take home and fuck till they were brain-dead this evening. Yeah… that was it. That was the problem; he was stressed…horny… he just needed some relief. Some mindless hard relief.

He'd get it later.

Right now, an opportunity was awaiting him; Stephen was leant over the bar, drunk, giggling… he couldn't get the attention of the bar-staff who were busy serving other customers. He really did look stupid as he sniggered to himself like a crap drunk child.

"Somethin' funny Stephen?"

Brendan didn't even get the satisfaction of Stephen's expression falling. He just carried on as he was… still smiling. Still enjoying life despite Brendan's pointed interruption.

"'nah, just somethin' this guy said." Ste breezed, and nodded to a bloke next to him. Kind of tall… dark haired… stupid hipster glasses on. A cocky smirk that Brendan wanted to slap right off his stupid face.

"I'm right though, aren't I?" The guy spoke to Stephen, completely ignoring their new contributor, "If you're gonna bang someone, at least make sure they're bloody awake for it, right? Otherwise it's just awkward for both of you."

"Yeah." Stephen giggled. "Here here." He clumsily clinked his glass against the bloke. Brendan rolled his eyes; Stephen probably didn't even understand what this bloke was talking about – so keen he was to be a fucking flirt; exude his new-found confidence.

"Still, I expect he'll get a taste of his own in prison, eh?" The bloke said, a little more seriously this time.

Brendan leaned in, genuine curiosity taking over him. "Who will?"

"That bloke they just kicked out!" He nodded to the doors of the pub, adding darkly, "He was carryin' them drugs about… about to slip one in that girls drink, apparently."

"Mercedes." Ste corrected him. "She looked well shook up, didn't she?"

"They're holdin' him outside now, till the police come." The bloke explained. "I mean, who knows what he was plannin' to do? Fuckin' perv."

Brendan's insides flared up in anger. Just the type of person he hated… the type that exploited and hurt women… the type that thought he was a big-man just because he was stronger than a young girl. Yeah, well that's no big man. That's a freak. A coward.

Brendan collected himself, taking a breath. He wasn't to let these things get to him anymore. He was emotionless… remember? Cold. Fearful. Impenetrable heart.

"Well who can blame a guy for tryin', eh?" He laughed loudly – eyes wide and wild-looking… bloodshot from alcohol… a little deranged. He felt deranged. He felt fucked… the old desperation creeping back into his senses as his hands clenched into themselves, denying themselves the pleasure of touching Stephen even for a moment. The drink was going to his head. He felt sick… dizzy. His heart hammered inside his stomach as Stephen looked him up and down in uncontained disgust.

"That's sick Brendan." He spoke darkly. "Jus' go home, yeah?"

"Hey." Brendan felt himself rocking on his feet… his tongue twitching inside his mouth as he had to fight harder than ever before to keep the unwanted emotions blocked. "You don't get to talk to me like tha'."

But Stephen only eyed him up and down… and those eyes now shone openly with nothing more than grief…disgust…despair.

"Yer a mess, Brendan." He spoke plainly.

And then he was gone. No affection. No hope. Nothing. All the things that kept Stephen coming back to Brendan were gone… the vain naïve trust he had that Brendan could be helped was gone. He was different now… wiser… corrupted by Brendan's own fists and broken promises.

"Fuck." Brendan muttered to himself… his voice coming out strained from emotion.

He wanted to rewind time. He couldn't help it. He wanted to go back to when Stephen looked at him with adoration and respect and love. He didn't want to feel like this anymore… discarded and hated and pitied. That wasn't how this relationship was supposed to work. Well… not relationship… whatever the fuck it was… IF it was anything…

He felt dizzy. His mind was screaming so many different things that he couldn't hear anymore… just white noise…

And he found himself leaving the pub. And he found his body almost gliding with menace and purpose towards Darren and the hooded bloke that he was holding in possession until the police arrived.

Brendan's fist tightened hard around the neck of the drug-dropping pervert, and he pulled him with strength and ease out of Darren's ear-shot.

"I wanna talk to ye." He hissed. "You're gonna do me a favour… _mate._"


End file.
